Seaweed in the Soup Read Online Free Page A

dragged myself up and over the rim, and on into a patch of coastal rainforest, where access through the dense tangle of green wilderness was restricted to animal trails and to whatever footpaths may have been cleared by determined hikers. Moss draped the surrounding trees like shreds of ragged green wool.
    Hearing a slight noise, I looked up through the sun-shot foliage and saw a squirrel clinging to the trunk of a big Douglas fir. The animal scampered from sight behind the trunk. After a moment, the squirrel’s nose reappeared. I watched it run out along a downward-sloping branch before it leapt into space and went from sight again. The breeze had stiffened into a wind and a fir cone struck my shoulder. The cone had not fallen from the fir tree. It had rolled off a sandstone boulder.
    The boulder, about the size of a small car, was partially shrouded by seed husks, fallen leaves and pinecones. I noticed an unnatural mark on the boulder’s weathered surface and dirtied my hands brushing it clean. Carved into the boulder’s front face were two petroglyphs, Native rock carvings that had been created by chipping and abrading with stone tools. The first was a life-sized anthropomorphic shape. A naturally occurring protuberance in the sandstone, suggestive of male genitalia, had been incorporated into the design. A second and much smaller petroglyph located below and to the left of the main figure showed a wolf, its gaping jaws held open by two pointed sticks.
    Ricketts scrambled over the rimrock and joined me. Sounding vindicated, he said, “This is it. This is the place.”
    Vancouver Island’s petroglyph sites are rarely, if ever, found away from water. Some petroglyphs are found in riverbeds and are only visible when water levels drop. Many are found on tidal beaches submerged by high tides. The petroglyphs that I was looking at had been created long ago, by a shaman or by a spirit quester seeking knowledge.
    For the Coast Salish, the vision quest is a turning point in life. When our youngsters reach puberty, they endure rigorous training in preparation for vision quests alone in the wilderness. This quest usually lasts for a number of days during which the initiate tunes into the spirit world. An essential part of the process involves fasting, sleep deprivation, and immersion in icy water to the brink of unconsciousness. Sometimes, not always, a guardian animal or spirit will then appear to the seeker in the form of a vision or a dream. After his vision quest, the youngster may be apprenticed to a shaman, a carver or a hunter. The vision quest may be a part of shamanism, or more exactly, an apprentice’s learning and initiation process under the guidance of a practising shaman. The shaman quest—its secrets and its search for power—is strongly related to petroglyphs because spirits—good and bad—dwell in certain boulders and trees.
    â€œSheesh!” Ricketts said, after looking at the petroglyphs. “What are these things?”
    â€œStone age rock carvings.”
    â€œThey’re sort of crazy-looking, if you ask me.”
    Ricketts was right: most petroglyphs are a bit peculiar. The creatures portrayed on them are birds, shamans, monsters and fantastic spirits. Many have overtly sexual overtones. Apart from a very few examples, the locations of which have long been known, petroglyphs are rare on southern Vancouver Island, although they are numerous farther north and on some offshore islands. To put it mildly, I was very surprised to discover a previously unknown petroglyph site half a mile from a well-travelled urban road.
    Needing to take a leak, Ricketts turned his back on me and moved behind the boulder. “Holy Christ,” he said. “What the hell is this?”
    I went to have a look. Ricketts was standing with his dick in his hand, staring down at what at first sight appeared to be an old leather glove. Forgetting his bladder, Ricketts zipped up and bent